Far Power Hell

It's amazing how sometimes we get into a rut and something comes along that rocks out senses. What's more interesting is what that something is.

The last several weeks I've been on a rockabilly/oldies kick. Been listening to a lot of old Booker T & the MGs and Jerry Lee Lewis as well as the Reverend Horton Heat. RHH is a good fall back band for me whenever I burn out on whatever I've been listening to most recently.

The other day I was sitting at the computer and really wasn't in the mood to listen to anything I had been listening to. So, I set media player to random and let it select my music for me, but pretty soon I was clicking next, next and next. Rush wasn't doing it for me, neither was Danzig. The Ramones were OK, but not what I was after. Then a chainsaw buzzed up my spine. The opening notes of Cowboys From Hell started playing and it was electric.

It was like my body knew how to react to the song. I felt propelled out of my chair. I had to stand up and move to the song. I didn't have my guitar handy, so I busted the Ibenhad Air Model.

I'm rocking along with the song when I notice my two-year-old son is watching me from across the room. He's got a huge smile and runs over and starts moving along with daddy. It was a moment that, in retrospect, is similar in my mind to something tesco posted yesterday.

I honestly don't care if my kids like any of the stuff I do. I want them to like whatever they want to. I want them to feel passionate about something. If that something isn't something I'm fond of, so be it. But it sure is nice when it is.